


at my breast, by the lampshade

by fungi



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, M/M, New Parents, They love their baby!!, although it's not a focal point, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungi/pseuds/fungi
Summary: His son’s mouth is latched over the nipple sucking diligently, a closed fist against Akihito’s chest. He feels a pull from the pit of his stomach, a sensation triggered every time he sits and observes his son’s face for too long. He imagines that he’ll always remain captivated by Eito’s delicate, upturned nose and dark eyes, eyes that would occasionally glance up at him under furrowed brows. He used his free hand to stroke Eito’s hair, watching as his eyes flickered away from Akihito’s breast to meet his mother’s gaze. Akihito smiles at him gleefully, soft sounds of greeting escaping his lips. “Hi.” Akihito whispers, his free hand moving to offer a finger for Eito to grasp onto.
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Comments: 14
Kudos: 260





	at my breast, by the lampshade

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic during finals week as I was deliriously ripping through several final essays, final projects, and final exams. Shoutout to all undergrads going to Zoom college, this shit is preposterous. I had this idea in my head for a while (hey, to all writers of m/m abo fics with eventual childbirth, why don't you ever include breastfeeding scenes? Is it too extreme? But you had him give birth!! Your readers are starving for affectionate maternal content!!) and I'm not sure why I felt the need to write it out during the most chaotic week I've had in months, but after some time off and some minor (I repeat, MINOR) editing, it's here!
> 
> Quick note on terminology: Akihito is an omega, and so his spousal title would be "wife" and parental title "mother" (at least in my rendition of the abo world.) Here's how I have it organized;  
> Alpha (male & female): King, mister, sir, father, husband.  
> Omega (male & female): Queen, miss/mrs., ma'am, mother, wife.
> 
> Betas follow a system similar to our own, where the titles they associate with typically are congruent with the gender they identify as.
> 
> I also didn't mean to post this on father's day, this is mostly a maternal fic.....sorry lol.

Akihito woke to the sound of his son crying in the next room, jolting upwards with a groan. Asami, who was previously sleeping like a bear beside him, shifted at his wife’s sudden movement, his moves sluggish as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I got it honey, don’t get up.” Akihito whispered assuredly, and in the darkness Asami could feel a gentle hand on his chest encouraging him to lie back down.

“Yuh sure?” Asami responded blearily, yielding to the slight pressure of Akihito’s hand. He closed his eyes as his head met the plush embrace of his pillow, Akihito’s hand moving to caress his face.

“I’ll be back, just stay in bed.”

This was the third time Akihito had woken up to the sound of Eito’s cries from the nursery, and the new mother prayed that this would be the last. He and Asami had been taking turns all night in an effort to split the arduous task of feeding Eito in the very early hours of the morning, and Asami had done his part around 2 AM. Akihito sighed and threw the covers off his legs, glancing at the clock on the nightstand that read 5:06 AM. Blearily he stood, careful to not disturb Asami with his movements as he tucked his feet into Asami’s soft slippers, which were placed haphazardly by the bed from the last time his husband got up to feed his child. 

Quickly Akihito entered the nursery and closed the door behind him, turning on the lamp situated by the doorway to provide dim lighting. Once he was looming over the dark, varnished frame of the wooden crib, he softly greeted Eito’s crying form—face red and creased excessively from shrieking, hands balled and moving with all the rage and frustration a newborn infant can gather—and gingerly reached for him. Akihito rubbed his thumb slowly against his baby’s fine, gossamer hair—jet black, just like his father’s—as his palm moved to gently cradle the back of Eito’s head. His left arm swiftly wound itself under the remainder of Eito’s body until the infant was slowly swung upwards to meet Akihito’s left shoulder. Eito’s cries faltered briefly during his move from crib to mother before he began wailing once more, his hunger resolute and persistent. Akihito added a comforting bounce to his step as he walked towards the nursing chair at the end of the room, next to the lamp sitting on a luxe nightstand. He sighed as he finally collapsed into the comfortable down of the pale-yellow wingback.

There was no not-awkward way to do this: his shirt collar was obviously tailored to accommodate a normal male neckline, not to be yanked down several inches to reveal his nipple. Even with a men’s shirt, Akihito was sure female omegas could accommodate such circumstances; if his breast were only the slightest bit larger, he could probably tuck the collar under the nipple, the weight of the theoretical breast holding the shirt down, and the drama with every feed would be over. Instead, he’s left with the option of leaving one side of his body exposed so that the feeding breast would be revealed, often resulting in one side of his sensitive upper body being exposed to the cold for the duration of the feed. 

"Can you even really call these boobs?" Akihito mused, lifting his shirt up to reveal a swollen nipple. Throughout his pregnancy, Akihito watched as fat accumulated over time beneath the skin of his chest, forming small mounds about half the size of a sweet kiwi. “You’re my sweet kiwi,” Akihito remarked affectionately as Eito’s cries began to resemble hiccupping sobs. He adjusted Eito so that his baby was in a football hold within his left arm: head and neck supported by Akihito’s palm while his body was tucked against his mother’s side, positioned so that he can feed at his mother’s left breast. Eito latched on quickly as Akihito encouraged him to his nipple, leaving his mother no time to brace himself for the brief discomfort that came with every feed. First came the prickling sensation that seemed to come deep from within his breast, summoned by the sensation of Eito suckling desperately at the other end. There’s a bloated sort of ache that fills the nipple as Eito begins sucking, which is relieved as soon as he starts drinking. Akihito sighed and collapsed against the tall back of the upholstered chair, his fingers of his right hand splayed against the soft fabric of the arms. 

He rolls his neck and strains gently until he hears a crack, then adjusts slightly so that he can glance down at Eito. His son’s mouth is latched over the nipple sucking diligently, a closed fist against Akihito’s chest. He feels a pull from the pit of his stomach, a sensation triggered every time he sits and observes his son’s face for too long. He imagines that he’ll always remain captivated by Eito’s delicate, upturned nose and dark eyes, eyes that would occasionally glance up at him under furrowed brows. He used his free hand to stroke Eito’s hair, watching as his eyes flickered away from Akihito’s breast to meet his mother’s gaze. Akihito smiles at him gleefully, soft sounds of greeting escaping his lips. “Hi.” Akihito whispers, his free hand moving to offer a finger for Eito to grasp onto. Instead he reaches up to paw at Akihito’s face, his plump hand clumsily groping at his mother’s arched nose. Eito’s features were strained in utmost concentration, as though he were trying to remember every wrinkle, crevice and mound on his mother’s visage.

He continued to trace his mother’s features before he moved onto more intriguing subjects, such as the fish-scale texture painted onto the white ceiling. Akihito began to doze as his son’s attention moved away from their brief moment of affection, and he began to fight the overwhelming desire to nod off. With Eito still at his breast and showing no signs of ending his mealtime, he relaxed into the chair once more and allowed himself to close his eyes for just a minute, just until Eito decided he was done eating.

Asami is jolted out of sleep by the sound of his alarm, a noise that caused him a similar amount of distress as baby wails did in the middle of the night. He leaned over towards his nightstand to shut the alarm off, glancing at the time that read 5:30 AM. He rolled over onto his back and scrubbed his face, sighing as he recalled the events of the night he just endured. He was thankful now that he accepted Kirishima’s advice and took paternity leave. For one, he wasn’t so sure how he could survive his demanding work schedule on top of being a new father. Eito’s nightmarish feeding schedule made negotiating illicit firearm trade routes between global criminal organizations sound like a walk in the park. Second, as much as his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it, he was in love with his new baby and wanted to be around Eito as much as he could, to nurture him and watch him grow.

Just as he was about to doze off again, he realized suddenly that Akihito wasn’t by his side. He flipped the sheets off of him as his feet searched around for his slippers. They settled for Akihito’s soft moccasins placed further under the bed when he couldn’t find his own, his feet cramming themselves snuggly into the smaller shoe.

He entered the nursery quietly and was met with the sight of his wife sleeping as Eito continued to breastfeed, his small body curled into his mother’s chest. Eito stopped as he heard his father enter and gazed at him as Asami moved closer, his big hands reaching for him. “Man, aren’t you tired?” Asami sighed as he adjusted his hold, Eito pressed closely against his body, chin resting on his father’s shoulder. “Because I know I am.” Asami winced as Eito started to cry again and he began to rock him gently, free hand patting the infant's back, gently coaxing a burp out of him. He grew quiet as the view from his father’s height intrigued him and after a few minutes he let out a small burp, much to Asami’s delight. He continued rocking him before he felt Eito’s body grow lax, head lolling to the side as his father’s movements lulled him to sleep. Slowly, Asami leaned over the crib and gently placed Eito back into his bed, hypervigilant for any signs of disturbance on his baby’s unconscious form. Eito shifted slightly as Asami’s arms left him and the new father held his breath, dismayed but ready to start the process of putting Eito to sleep again if needed. After a few soft grunts Eito stopped moving, apparently deciding to settle into a long quiet, slumber for the rest of the morning. 

Celebrating mentally, Asami returned to his wife still sleeping in the nursing chair and gently nudged him awake. “Mmm,” Akihito groaned softly, using a curled pointer finger to rub at his eye. Asami hushed him softly as he pointed to Eito’s crib, then placed his finger against pursed lips, signaling Eito’s sleeping status. Akihito, fresh out of sleep and sluggish, slowly connected the dots. He nodded and then grinned, getting up from his chair while Asami helped him pull his shirt back down. Quietly they crept out of the nursery and back into their room, where Asami tucked himself under the covers first and then opened the blanket up invitingly, allowing an exhausted Akihito to slide in. Akihito couldn't recall ever feeling so satisfied entering Asami’s bed and arms after a long, restless night. His stakeouts were on par with the sensation, where he crept back into the house at dawn after an exhilarating night of capturing the activities of Tokyo’s underbelly on camera. But this was different, he had Asami by his side to help him. Not out of force or because he had the expectation that he would receive something in return, but because since the day he had Eito’s wailing red form thrown into his arms after hours of painful, miserable labor, he and Asami felt a fierce, protective and excessively tender love for their son. Akihito shifted as Asami wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, nuzzling his ear and neck affectionately as his husband's hands gently stroked his back. They remained in that position, locked together, until the sun rose later that morning.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, let me know why in a comment! And if you didn't, let me know why in a comment! I love talking about writing in general and I think feedback is important for nascent writers—it's something I take seriously. Anyways, thanks for reading!


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